


The Better Place

by LiraelClayr007



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, tub sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: Dean pushes open the cabin door without knocking; he knows he should, but he’s feeling frustrated and he wants to be in control ofsomething. “Long day,” he says, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “Sorry I’m so–” And then he drops his hand and opens his eyes and it takes almost a full minute before he can finish the sentence.“Late.”Because Cas is sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, and next to him is an old fashioned wooden bathtub, full of water.A bathtub.An actual bathtub.___Or, the one where Dean and Cas have a "friends with benefits" thing going but don't know how to use their words, so Cas says it with a bathtub.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Endverse Castiel/Endverse Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 126





	The Better Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pherryt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/gifts).



> Okay, so honestly this was just because I wanted to write Dean + Cas + bathtub for Pherryt. I'm not sure how endverse slipped in there, but it was fun. 💜
> 
> Love, Lira 🏹

Dean slips through the camp, the stars his only light. Not that he needs them. He’s walked the path from his cabin to Cas’s through enough dark nights that he could find his way blindfolded. He knows exactly where to step over the roots, when to duck under branches, and where to walk around the patch of ground that always seems to be covered in noisy twigs and dry leaves.

He’s pretty sure everyone in the camp knows he spends nights at Cas’s sometimes, and what they do there, but he still doesn’t want to advertise.

Because honestly, he still doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing. Yeah, they’re fucking, and it feels good. Feels _great_. But it’s not– It’s never– Well. That’s just it.

He’s really got no idea.

Dean pushes open the cabin door without knocking; he knows he should, but he’s feeling frustrated and he wants to be in control of _something_. “Long day,” he says, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “Sorry I’m so–” And then he drops his hand and opens his eyes and it takes almost a full minute before he can finish the sentence.

“Late.”

Because Cas is sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, and next to him is an old fashioned wooden bathtub, full of water.

A bathtub.

An actual fucking bathtub.

“Holy fuck, Cas. Where did that come from?”

The thought of soaking in hot water is enough to make him nearly catatonic. His knees almost give out just looking at it.

“A couple of the guys were cleaning out a storage shed, found it buried in the back. I swore them to secrecy, then spent all afternoon cleaning it out.” Cas gives Dean a satisfied smile.

“Cas, that’s…” He can’t find a word good enough to describe it. “My body’s not gonna know what to do, man.” He looks up at the angel, suddenly unsure. “It...I mean...it _is_ for me, isn’t it?”

Cas smiles, then laughs, in that breathtaking and free way he has now that he’s mostly fallen. “Yes Dean, it’s for you. It would be for both of us if it was slightly larger…” He gives the tub a sad little glance. “I washed up earlier. This is...a gift.”

Dean feels something in him crack. Something deep inside.

He never meant to fall in love with Cas. It just wasn’t supposed to happen. He’s a broken hunter and Cas is an angel, holy and set apart. So he tries to tell himself it isn’t love, that it’s just circumstance. Or solace. That they wouldn’t have fallen into bed together if the world hadn’t ended. That they only fuck each other senseless to feel something in a world where everything is numb.

But he knows it’s a lie.

He doesn’t come here just for sex. He doesn’t seek out the angel just for physical comfort. He comes for the company. For the way Cas smiles at him, for the light in his eyes when even a tiny thing makes him happy.

“Thanks, Cas. This–” He has to stop, just long enough for a breath, because he can feel the emotion rising in his throat and he has to get it under control. “This is awesome,” he finishes, and he smiles. It might be his first real smile in weeks.

Cas holds his gaze for a handful of heartbeats then says, “Come on. Take off your clothes.”

Dean begins to strip, then pauses, half out of his jeans. “How’d you get hot water in here?”

“I didn’t,” Cas says, and Dean nearly trips over his boots.

“So I’m taking a cold bath? Gotta say, Cas, that doesn’t sound all that great. Feeling a bit hoodwinked, here.”

Cas rolls his eyes, and Dean is once again aware of how human Cas is becoming. “The water will be perfect, Dean.” His voice is so dry Dean almost expects something in the cabin to shrivel and turn to dust, but of course nothing does. Without breaking eye contact Cas sticks a hand into the tub, and in a moment there is steam rising from the surface of the water. “Satisfied?” he asks.

“Cas,” Dean says. His voice catches in his throat. Warming bathwater shouldn’t be so hot, and yet…

Cas shrugs. “I don’t have enough left to heal, but I can heat up a little water. I might as well use it while I’ve got it.” He quirks a smile. Nodding at Dean he says, “Go on. You said you didn’t want a cold bath.

Dean doesn’t waste any time, just loses the rest of his clothes and eases himself into the water.

“Oh Cas,” he moans, his eyes falling shut. “This is _heaven_.”

“Hardly,” says Cas, voice still dry. “I prefer this place, croats and all.”

Opening one eye to look at Cas, Dean says, “This is a nightmare. You’d rather be here than heaven?”

He shrugs again. “In heaven I never knew you. In heaven I never knew…”

But then he stops, urging Dean to lean forward. He’s got some good soap; Dean has no idea where he found it but it smells wonderful, like lemongrass and lavender. And the washcloth on his back, just a thin layer of terrycloth separating his skin from Cas’s hand...it overwhelms his senses. He moans his pleasure as Cas moves around to wash his chest.

“I can do that,” Dean protests, but weakly, and he makes no move to stop Cas. And Cas ignores him, moving again to wash Dean’s arms and then his fingers, taking the time to massage his hands. He moves back around to his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension there with his strong hands. He may not have much grace left, but his vessel–his body, now–is far from weak. Dean cannot form words, he only moans and sighs and leans into Cas’s fingers. Cas washes Dean’s hair, massaging his scalp, carding his fingers through the wet, soapy hair again and again.

Dean is relaxed, head back and eyes closed, so he’s surprised when one of his pleasure-filled moans is cut off by Cas’s lips on his. Surprised, but not at all displeased. The angle is slightly awkward; Cas has one hand in Dean’s hair and the other on the curved edge of the tub, and he’s leaning over Dean so far that Dean’s knee pushes into his stomach, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and Dean’s too lost to care much either. Because this is Cas, and he’s always, always happy to kiss Cas.

“You’re getting all wet,” Dean murmurs between kisses. “And soapy.”

“Should I stop?” Cas asks, kissing Dean again.

“Don’t you dare,” Dean says, nipping at Cas’s lower lip.

“Wasn’t going to anyway,” Cas says. “I’m not afraid of a little water.” He proves this by climbing into the tub and sitting on Dean’s lap. He doesn’t fit, not really, but it doesn’t matter.

“Perfect,” Dean sighs.

Cas tilts his head. “You have an odd definition of perfect.”

Dean laughs, a real, true laugh. “And what about you? You may be almost human, but you still look like the same goofy angel I first met all that time ago.”

“Goofy?” Cas asks, a puzzled look on his face.

Dean laughs harder, and after a minute Cas joins in.

When the laughter falls away, leaving comfortable silence in its wake, Dean looks at Cas with love in his eyes and says, “You’re not supposed to wear clothes in the bath, you know.” He pulls Cas’s half wet shirt over his head and tosses it outside the tub; it lands on the floor with a wet plop. “I don’t know how to get your pants off.” He looks away, a little sheepish. “But right now I just want to feel your skin against mine.” _Hot and wet and slick_ , he thinks but doesn’t say.

Cas shivers, a convulsion through his whole body, and Dean suddenly wonders exactly how much grace Cas has left. Is he still feeling Dean’s longings coming off him like prayers? Because something in the shudder tells Dean that Cas wants him; not just sex, but _him_.

“Cas,” he says, and the angel’s name on his lips sounds like a wish, a hope, a prayer. He swallows, suddenly very aware of how close they are. They spend a lot of time pressed together lately, but this is a new kind of closeness.

Or an old one.

“Cas,” he says again. “What were you going to say? Before? About what’s better here than in heaven?” He thinks he knows, but he needs to hear it spoken.

The silence goes on, and he doesn’t think Cas is going to answer. He thinks it’s going to be the same as always, the lightning on his skin, the staying and the holding as long as Cas will let him and then going away empty.

But Cas surprises him.

“In heaven, souls find rest, yes. And there are angels, and orders, and armies. But here there is you. Here, even with monsters and Lucifer and hell knocking at the door…” He finally makes eye contact, and Dean feels himself falling into the blue of Cas’s eyes. “Here, I know love.”

“You– I–” Dean stumbles, then tries again. “Yeah, Cas. Yeah. I love you too.” He kisses Cas’s lips, soft, just a breath, and then Cas surges forward, tangling his fingers in Dean’s hair. Dean doesn’t know if he’ll ever breathe again, but he can’t bring himself again.

But eventually he does pull away, gasping for breath, and so does Cas, and it strikes him that yeah, Cas actually does require oxygen to survive now. Pressing another soft kiss to Cas’s lips he says, “I’m sorry, Cas.”

Cas looks hurt, and it takes Dean, still a bit befuddled from the kiss and the emotion of the moment, a minute to understand why. “Oh!” he says. “No! I’ll never apologize for loving you. It’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever done.” He can feel the blush rise on his cheeks, and he sees Cas notice, his eyes flicking downward, a slight brightness there. “No, I’m sorry you’re almost human now. Soon the last of your grace will trickle away and you’ll be stuck here, mortal, after all those centuries of watching from a distance.”

“But that’s just it, Dean. Before I was watching. Now I’m _living_. Before I could only wonder, now I can experience. And life with you is full of all the best experiences.” He kisses Dean again, and he must feel Dean’s now fully hard dick, ready for more “experiences,” straining against him.

“Maybe we should get the shampoo out of my hair?” Dean says, and Cas laughs again. It sounds like bells ringing, like kittens playing, like everything happy and good Dean has ever heard.

Cas tips Dean’s head back and begins to rinse his hair clean, smiling softly as he works. “We’ve got time,” he says. “Hours and hours until sunup. And maybe you don’t even have to go home then.” His words are light, but underneath them Dean can hear the question, the anxiety, the old fears.

“Don’t have anywhere to be,” he says, and he feels Cas relax above him. He smiles. “I don’t know how I fell in love with you, Cas. I guess it only took the end of the world.”


End file.
